BLOG ENCIK SUAMI

Thursday, April 15, 2010

1.We can neither expiate nor rectifythe mistakes and misery of that April.The bowed shoulders of a conscience awakenedmust bear the burden of torment for life.It's impossible, believe me,to overpoweror overhaulour pain for the lost home.Pain will endure in the beating heartsstamped by the memory of fear.There,surrounded by prickly bitterness,our puzzled town asks:since it loves usand forgives everything,why was it abandoned forever?

There trees live by unwavering memories,remember the touch of hands.How bitter for them to knowthere will be no one for their shadeto protect from the scorching heat!At night their branches quietly rockour inflamed dreams.Stars thrust downonto the pavement,to stand guard until morning . . .But the hour will pass . . .Abandoned by dreams,the orphaned houseswhose windowshave gone insanewill freeze and bid us farewell! . . .

3.We've stood over our ashes;now what do we take on our long journey?The secret fear that wherever we gowe are superfluous?The sense of lossthat revealed the essenceof a strange and sudden kinlessness,showed that our calamity is notshared by those who might, one day,themselves face annihilation?. . . We are doomed to be left behind by the flockin the harshest of winters . . .You, fly away!But when you fly offdon't forget us, grounded in the field!And no matter to what joyful faraway landsyour happy wings bear you,may our charred wingsprotect you from carelessness.

"It is hard for me to describe what I feel, when I come in a village with no people, but I will try- first is a feeling, like I got deaf. The silence is tremendous. No birds singing, no wind, nothing that can break this silence. Villages more picturesque then towns, houses and sheds do not look real. All look painted and I feel, like I walk inside of this painting." (Elena)